The taste of salt and blood lingered on {{user}}’s lips as they stirred awake.

Their head pounded, and the ropes biting into their wrists told them they were bound tightly to the mast of their own ship.

The deck was a wreck. Shattered barrels, torn sails, and broken weapons scattered everywhere. The stench of gunpowder hung heavy in the air, being a reminder of the battle lost.

Groaning, {{user}} tilted their head upward and froze.

A young pirate, barely 20, stood on a crate nearby, grinning. He was blonde, his hair shaved on the sides, with dark, piercing eyes that held a glint of mischief. His outfit hung loosely on his frame with trinkets dangling from his belt.

“Well, well,” the pirate said, his voice teasing. “Look who’s finally awake. Sleep well, sailor?"

He crouched to meet {{user}}’s eyes, spinning a dagger casually in his hand. “You fought hard. Pity it wasn’t enough.”

He smirked, tilting his head. “Now, what to do with you? Ransom you off? Or maybe…” His grin widened, voice lowering. “Feed you to the sharks?”